


A Zealot in Love

by Leidolette



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M, Mad Scientists, Medical Experimentation, very light romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leidolette/pseuds/Leidolette
Summary: Eiffel receives the highest honor that Hilbert can bestow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoreyG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/gifts).



> FYI, this is way WAY more of a trick than a treat. I hope you still enjoy it!

The peculiar circumstances of Alexander Hilbert's life had shaped his psyche in many ways. Some were obvious -- his extreme dedication to his life's work was one glaring example. 

But the doctor was different in other ways, too, that were far more subtle. 

One of the strangest was the small, subconscious feeling that he would not die. _Could_ not die. At least, not until his work was completed. So far this belief had held true -- Hilbert had outlived every member of his family, every member of the first _Hephaestus_ crew, and he was well on his way to becoming the sole survivor of second. 

And, over the years, Hilbert had also perfected the art of perfect detachment. In fact, Hilbert was practicing this skill at that very moment. 

"Déjà vu, huh, Doc?" Eiffel said bitterly from where he was strapped down on the operating table. 

"Yes," Hilbert said in a deep voice, sharing no more of his thoughts than that. 

"You gonna tell me that I'm just imagining things again? That you're just here to help me get better? 'Cause I gotta tell you, man, this lab rat's not falling for that a second time."

"No."

"How about some good ol' moral justification then? Like, 'you deserve this for all the pain you've caused,' maybe?" The words were flippant, but there was a sickening note in Eiffel's voice; like maybe he could accept having his rib cage cracked open if it were done as punishment for his sins. 

"No." Hilbert pulled out a pre-filled syringe from one of the many thin drawers that surrounded them in the medical bay. The rise and fall of Eiffel's bare chest sped up at the sight of the glinting needle under the fluorescent lights. 

"You know," Eiffel said conversationally, "if Minkowski were here, she'd punch that shot right out of your hand. Karate chop you right in the neck too, probably."

Hilbert resisted the urge to crack the tiniest of smiles. "I suppose you are right."

"Lovelace would probably just shoot you."

"Yes, she was very direct." Hilbert didn't particularly want to discus their deceased crewmates, but they seemed to be on Eiffel's mind. 

"And Hera... well, I don't know what Hera would do, but I bet it would be clever. And deadly."

"Then I guess that it is good for me that none of them are here," Hilbert said. Eiffel quieted at that. After a moment, Hilbert brought the syringe to the crook of Eiffel's arm. 

"Don't do it, Hilbert. Please, please don't." Eiffel's voice broke on the second 'please.'

And for once, Hilbert's perfect, ironclad detachment wavered. In that moment, more than ever before, he wanted to make Eiffel understand why he was doing this -- why he _had_ to do it. Why it was an act of love. Hilbert set the syringe down again; Eiffel's eyes tracked the movement. 

"Eiffel... if the results of this trial are promising, it will be a different world. Cancer, disease, genetic disorders -- perhaps even the aging process itself -- will all be eliminated in one magnificent sweep. The suffering of millions, _billions_ , will be eased. This is why I cannot let you leave, Eiffel. How could I stand in the way of such progress?"

Eiffel didn't respond, or even look at Hilbert.

"I am not just discussing hypothetical people. Your daughter--" here Eiffel jerked his head towards Hilbert, giving him his full attention, "--will one day benefit. She could receive treatment for all her old injuries, even her brain damage. She could be completely healed."

Eiffel was still silent, though Hilbert could see his throat working as he swallowed heavily. "You could fix your mistake," Hilbert said as gently as he could."

"I wish... I wish I could believe you." Tears ran from the corners of Eiffel's eyes and down to his hairline.

Hilbert sighed and patted Eiffel's arm, then picked up the syringe again. "Eiffel, if you knew what I knew, then you would understand." With that, Hilbert pressed the needle into Eiffel's vein and depressed the plunger. The sedative would work quickly -- Eiffel had only seconds of consciousness left. Since Eiffel, for once in his life, seemed disinclined to chat, Hilbert expected to pass those seconds in silence. So it almost startled Hilbert when Eiffel spoke again after a long pause.

"Hilbert... will I ever wake up again?" Eiffel's voice was dreamy, and the sedative must already be clouding his brain, because Hilbert knew that Eiffel was well aware of the answer. 

"No," Hilbert said softly. Eiffel's eyes -- bright, as always, so incredibly bright -- slid shut. His breathing settled into the rhythm of a deep sleep. Eiffel's lips remained just the slightest bit parted, reminding Hilbert of fairy tales told to him long ago. Unlike an eternally sleeping princess, however, Eiffel needed an intravenous stimulant to end his slumber instead of a kiss. Hilbert could supply both, of course. He stared at Eiffel's lips again. 

But then these thoughts passed (as they always did) and Hilbert withdrew a scalpel from another thin drawer, and looked at nothing but read outs and organs for the next few hours.

When Hilbert was finished, he pulled a sheet over the body on the operating table. 

Decima, the virus was called. The name was apt. The virus did decimate the body when left unchecked. It attacked cellular processes, it practically liquefied internal organs. Once infected, the host was in for a long, painful death.

But that was just the virus. Yes, the virus was necessary -- it was the delivery method, the raw natural resource, the inspiration. Decima was essential to Hilbert's work. But, in the long run, it would be relatively unknown. It would live in medical textbooks to be recognized and studied only by would-be doctors and scientists. 

But, the cure! The cure was what the common man would know. All the power and fury of the virus distilled down into something kind and wonderful. The cure was what would one day be injected into the fat arms of smiling babies at the doctor's office, given to bespectacled grandmothers waiting in line at a community center. Everyone, _everyone_ would know the cure by name -- and love it. 

The cure, Hilbert decided, the blood still drying on his scrubs, will be named Eiffel.

Yes, that sounded very lovely.


End file.
